


The Ugly Sherlock

by dirtypenny (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, depressedlock, sherlock bbc - Freeform, watson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/dirtypenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cross between the Ugly Duckling and Sherlock, where when Sherlock was born he looked quite repulsive- which led to some unfortunate things happening. But soon Sherlock grows to become quite beautiful and doesn't even know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ugly Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> AYYYYY, THANKS FOR READING, CUTIE PIE. (Yes, you.) I obviously crossed the story over with a fairytale story, so it’s written in more of a storybook kind of way, chunky and only slightly descriptive. I followed along with the location of events in the Grimm Ugly Duckling story, I hope you like it! Thank you so much!

Once upon a time a mother bore two children, Mycroft and Sherlock. The mother was rather vain and wanted her children to look their best. When Mycroft was born she was very pleased and laid a kiss atop his tender head. But, when Sherlock was born she wrinkled her nose and exclaimed, “What an ugly child!” There was something Mrs. Holmes did not like about the baby, the curve of it’s lips or the shape of it’s eyes. Whatever it was, Mrs. Holmes was revolted.

 

The baby, not understanding English, just giggled and stuck it’s foot in it’s mouth.

 

For years Mrs. Holmes ignored Sherlock, coddling and caring for Mycroft. Sherlock was saddened and since Mr. Holmes had died when Mrs. Holmes was pregnant with him, Sherlock did not have a father’s care.

 

But when Sherlock was 13, he had still not grown out of his ugliness in Mrs. Holmes eyes, and so she started to get more and more ashamed of Sherlock, telling him to stay in his room when she had friends over and letting Mycroft taunt him all he pleased. Sherlock cried every single night, sleeping on a wet pillow in misery.

 

One day, when Mrs. Holmes was having tea with her co workers, Sherlock decided that he should probably go downstairs to use the bathroom. So he walked down the stairs and into the dining room to get to the toilet. Mrs. Holmes quickly noticed Sherlock in the dining room and so did her co workers.

 

As her co workers howled with laughter at the sight of Sherlock, Mrs. Holmes scooped up the boy and threw him into the closet angrily.

 

“You are a shame!” She screamed, face flushed with rage. “You are a shame to this family.” After hitting Sherlock across the face for good measure, she slammed the door closed in his face.

 

Sherlock curled up in the closet and cried and cried in the darkness, wishing that he could be as normal as the others. Why must I be this way? He thought in pity for himself, sniffling and wiping his tears. I am such a shame, I shall leave this place forever and find a place where someone will love me.

 

And so that night Sherlock had stuffed some clothes and money from his piggy bank into a pack and snuck out of the house. He caught the nearest night bus and rode it until the last stop.

 

Sherlock was now as far away as possible from the Holmes household and he supposed that he should start trying to find someone that will like him and perhaps take care of him. He spotted a group of people outside of a cafe and decided that he could talk to them.

 

Sherlock approached the people and asked one of them, “Excuse me, do you think you could take care of me?” He asks hesitantly, thinking that perhaps there was someone out there that looked like him and maybe he didn’t look as bad as his mother and brother supposed.

 

A few people laughed and said, “We’ve never seen anyone as ugly as you!” Sherlock felt as if his papery heart had just been rained on and crinkled to a messy pulp.

 

Another person warned Sherlock. “Be careful around these parts of town, boy. There’s crazy loons who’ll kidnap you and do some awful things!”

 

Sherlock did not give up, though. He kept wandering through the strange town, trying to find more people and perhaps a place to sleep. But Sherlock was very tired and he finally laid down on a bench and shivered himself to sleep.

 

At sunrise Sherlock was ready to adventure through the town again, hoping that it would be more lively in the daytime. As Sherlock wandered through a grimy neighborhood, an old blind woman snatched him up. Sherlock screamed and kicked, but the woman was surprisingly strong and managed to lock him inside of her basement, screaming that he would sew for her and keep her shop full of clothing.

 

Sherlock was frightened and started to panic. He was hopelessly trapped and famished and he couldn’t find a way to escape. There were two more children in the basement with him as well and they weren’t so nice to Sherlock.

 

“You can’t even sew, can you?” A girl with no fingernails and dreadlocks taunted.

 

A grungy both with a gash above his eyelid laughed a dry-mouthed coughing chortle. “If you don’t listen to the old woman she’ll beat you to a pulp!” He said joyfully.

 

The girl laughed with him. “You’ll be a bloody mess on the floor! Say, might I cut off your nice curly hair when you’re dead?”

 

Sherlock was terrified and now he longed to be back at home where at least he was safe from this kind of abuse and imprisonment. The old woman came down everyday and threw fabric and sewing materials down, barking for Sherlock to make something.

 

“You haven’t finished one thing yet! At this rate, I might have to sell you off instead!” She screeched, feeling her way up the stairs.

 

Sherlock groaned helplessly, muttering in desperation, “Oh, how did I get into this mess? I just wanted someone to love me…”

 

That night, the old woman accidentally left the basement door unlocked and Sherlock made a quick escape, giddy with the joy of getting out of that prison. Sherlock ran and ran, adrenaline coursing through his very soul. He kept running and running until he was certain that he was at least a town away from that frightening place.

 

I shall never show my face to the world again. Sherlock thought pitifully as he wept. He found a nice little spot in the forest that was plentiful with berries and creek water. Sherlock used the fabric that the old woman had given to him to construct a fort and blankets.

 

And so Sherlock dwelled there and though he was happy and safe, he was very lonesome. One morning he looked up at the sky and saw a hot air balloon rising high into the clouds. He sighed and gazed at it in longing.

 

How I wish to be as the others… He thought sorrowfully, coughing once or twice. It was starting to get very cold outside and the berries were dropping dead off of the bushes. Sherlock knew that winter would come soon and he would surely freeze to death all alone in the woods.

 

That night it had began to flurry and Sherlock was frozen to the bone. He wandered through the woods aimlessly, his teeth chattering like a typewriter. Sherlock was so cold he thought he was surely to die. Eventually he gave up on trying to find warmth and simply laid on the ground, wishing that death would come soon and envelop him.

 

All I wanted was for someone to love me. He thinks drowsily before the cold covers him completely and he accepts death.

 

But that’s not quite what happened. Sherlock passed out on a farmer’s field, thinking that he had at long last died. The farmer had spotted Sherlock’s body on the ground and quickly ventured out to save the boy.

 

The farmer’s wife poured a hot bath and the farmer shed Sherlock of his frozen wet clothes. They placed the skimpy pale boy into the tub and ordered their children to get warm rags to place on Sherlock’s face.

 

When the bath grew cold, their only son, Emery- the second oldest, dried Sherlock off and put his warmest clothes on his little body, then laying him on the couch and wrapping several blankets around him.

 

The anxious family went to sleep, hoping the boy will have recovered in the morning.

 

And thankfully, Sherlock did wake. He was surprised to have woken up in the nice house covered in blankets and well enough alive.

 

“Momma! Momma! He’s alive!” Screeched their youngest daughter, Penelope. The family stumbled from their beds to lay their eyes on the sight of Sherlock.

 

“Emery! Quick, fix a pot of hot soup!” The farmer’s wife, Mrs. Geovana exclaimed. Mr. Geovana handed Sherlock a cup of warm water from the kettle as Emery fixed the soup on the stove. Sherlock drank the hot water gratefully, letting the heat spread gracefully through his body.

 

Yana, the middle child, stared at Sherlock intently as he sipped at the water. Sherlock caught her eye once, but quickly looked away and focused his attention to draining the mug.

 

“Do you speak English?” Yana asked hesitantly. Sherlock nodded quietly before draining the mug. The second youngest, Leo walked into the living room with a bowl of steaming soup and a spoon, grinning wide.

 

“Yana, do you think we can keep him?” She asked gleefully as Sherlock accepted the soup and ate hungrily. “I do wish to have another brother!”

 

And so the Geovana family kept Sherlock, caring for him despite his looks. They homeschooled him and let him share a room with Emery. And opposed to everything, all the torture and pain that Sherlock had endured, he felt at home. Emery was a true brother to him, unlike Mycroft. Mr. Geovana was the father he never had and Mrs. Geovana was the better mother that he needed. And, the girls were of course like sisters to him. Mr. Geovana taught Sherlock how to grow things and Mrs. Geovana showed Sherlock proper manners.

 

The Geovana family was always amazed at how smart Sherlock was. Since Sherlock had been alone for a very long time, he’d spent a while reading other people’s emotions and deducting, so he had become very good at the art. Yet, no matter what, Sherlock NEVER looked into a mirror- so Sherlock did not know that he was becoming less ugly and more and more handsome than anyone else in the town.

 

When Sherlock was 17, they were walking about the farmer’s market when a boy his age accidentally bumped into him.

 

Sherlock was startled, quickly exclaiming his apologies. But, the boy just continued staring at him in awe. Sherlock frowned. “Are you alright?” He asked in a worried tone.

 

A sheepish grin spread across the boy’s face. “Where have you been cooped up all these years?” He asked in a joking tone. “You would think that I would’ve hear that you were the most gorgeous boy in the town.”

 

He held out his hand. “I’m John.”

 

And Sherlock’s heart practically exploded with joy.

 

~*~

Hey, thanks sooooo much for reading, it really helps! Please tell me what you think of the crossover and don’t be afraid to hand out constructive criticisms You’re a doll for reading, thank you so much!

*Smoochie.*

-Square One


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